


Chapter 1

by asmallkitten



Series: A Light in the Dark [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Noir, Comedy, Detective Noir, Multi, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 06:33:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6184381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asmallkitten/pseuds/asmallkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective Constable Cullen Rutherford has just moved to Haven, a small city with a lot of trouble. His first week on the job does not go well and he finds himself questioning if this whole thing was a terrible idea...until a tip-off from an enigmatic local Speakeasy performer busts the whole case wide open. But with spies and double agents around every corner, just who can he really trust?</p><p>Rated mature for later graphic violence and sexual themes. This includes mentions of non-consensual sex but each chapter with such content will be labelled in notes at the beginning so do not to fear!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chapter 1

It was a cold morning and Haven was smoggy, dark and damp; Cullen had to keep leaning forward in order to wipe the condensation from the windshield. Every time he did he noticed people standing on the pavements staring in his direction. Men, women and children. Very strange. Even stranger was the fact there were no other cars on the road; it was peak time for going to work and yet no one, if this was Kirkwall he’d have been in traffic for 20 minutes already. But as first days at new jobs went, this was fine, he really shouldn’t be complaining, not when he’d just arrived, half an hour early.

Parking around the back of the bureau, he noted there were no cars there either. He must be the first one in, or so he thought. The detective lit a cigarette before stepping out into the light rain.

“Detective Sergeant Rutherford” came a Nevarran brogue “I’m pleased to see you arrived ok”

Cullen turned to see Seeker Cassandra, the whole reason he was here. She was dressed in a rather similar fashion to himself, the deep navy of her tailored pinstripe suit offset by a grey waistcoat and flatcap with brogues as black as the short hair she was crowned with. The sharp eyes were on him, a gloved hand half extended in his direction.  
  
“Seeker Constable Pentaghast” he returned, shaking her hand “I’m afraid I’m early.”  
  
“Not a problem, Detective. I trust your move wasn’t too troublesome?”  
  
“No trouble at all, I could fit most of the things in my car.”

Pentaghast’s eyes looked beyond him then, zeroing in on his Rolls Royce Silver Ghost.  
  
“Maker! How much did they pay you lot in Kirkwall?”  
  
“Oh no, I didn’t buy it. My father acquired it when it was nothing more than a scrap heap. My brother Branson and I fixed it up together over the course of a few years.” He patted the bonnet proudly.  
  
“Is that so? Then why was it left to you and not he?”  
  
“When I was reassigned from Honnleath to” he sucked in a quick breath hoping she would not notice his discomfort “Lake Calenhad my parents wished me to have a car so I could come and see them easily.” If she discerned anything from his pause, she didn’t let on.  
  
“Ah, I see.” The Seeker kept looking at the automobile thoughtfully. “Detective Sergeant, I’m going to have to ask you not to bring your car to work again.” She said, tone serious.  
  
“What!? Why?” he loved his car, the practicality, the speed.  
  
“Did you see anyone else driving on your way here?”  
  
“No, now that you mention it.”  
  
“Can you see any other cars parked here, at your workplace?”  
  
“I cannot.”  
  
“That is because, Rutherford, you have just become the first person not to be a part of Haven City Council to own a car.”  
  
Cullen didn’t move for a moment, caught between the urge to laugh and growing concern. He knew Haven was a slow-to-progress city, but this slow?  
  
“I still don’t see how that makes my driving it a problem.”  
  
The Constable sighed. “Come, let us continue this indoors, we should have a while before any of the others arrive.”  
  
She started away and up the steps, Cullen could just barely match her strides.  
  
The inside of the bureau was not at all what he expected, the floors were made of the same dark wood as the archways separating each section of office, the walls were pale stone and the doorways thrice as big as necessary. It felt more like a chantry than a police station or perhaps a library.

Cassandra beckoned Rutherford to a large room with cooking hobs, old refrigerators, tables, chairs and two uncomfortable-looking sofas. She walked to the sink, filling a kettle before placing it on the hob and turning back to him.

“Detective, wouldn’t you agree that both of our jobs are very dependent on the help of the public?”  
  
“Yes, I suppose that is true, why?”  
  
“I have been at this job long enough to understand that you will never get the full story from anyone, will never earn the trust of anyone, if you are standing above them.”  
  
He opened his mouth to protest but was silenced by a hand raised by his superior  
  
“It’s not enough to just _want_ to be someone’s equal or even to _believe_ that you are. No one is going to be honest and open with the richest man in a poor city.”  
  
“But I’m not even rich!”  
  
“Compared to them, especially with that impressive vehicle of yours, you might as well be a lord.”  
  
Cullen removed his trilby to run a hand through his hair. “Alright, Constable, I understand.”  
  
“Good. Now that that unpleasantry has been dealt with can I get you a warm drink? Coffee?”  
  
“I’d prefer a tea, if possible. Milky, one sugar, thank you.”  
  
Pentaghast scoffed quietly and Cullen could see why when she took a seat next to him and he glanced into her mug to see black coffee.  
  
“You’ll need to start bringing your own teacups, as well.”  
  
They lapsed into silence as each nursed their beverage and Cullen nearly jumped out of his skin when the front entrance to the building crashed open followed by incredibly heavy footsteps and raucous laughter.  
  
“That will be Bull.” Muttered Cassandra  
  
“Bull?”  
  
“Our co-worker. If you’re done here, I’d like to introduce you.”

“After you, ma’am.”

But they didn’t have time to even leave the room before the doorway was filled by a large, shirtless Qunari. He had a neat moustache under his broad nose and horns so large they were almost touching both sides of the doorframe.  
  
“Cassandra!” he greeted cheerfully before zeroing in on the stranger. “It bring-your-boyfriend-to-work day? ‘Cause that’s my every-day!” more booming laughter.  
  
Cassandra merely sighed at his jibe, a sure sign that this happened often.  
  
“Detective Sergeant Cullen Rutherford, it is with deep regret that I introduce to you Special Constable Iron Bull. He is also one of our resident weapons experts, second only to myself.”  
  
“How do you do, Bull?” Cullen said politely, offering his hand before it was completely engulfed in the Qun’s fist and shaken forcefully.  
  
“Heard about you, boyo! You were in Kirkwall right? Musta killed a whole bunch of my race-mates!” He laughed again before Rutherford could get nervous “Now I’m really glad I got here early!”  
  
“Just how _did_ you get here so early?” Cassandra asked, eyebrow quirking.  
  
“It was I, of course.” Chimed in a melodic voice behind the huge form.  
  
Bull stepped back to reveal a man, dark of skin with immaculately curled hair. His outfit was fitted incredibly, with a dark purple checked blazer, buttoned at the waist and white slacks which were crisp and smooth. Each aspect was decorated with delicate golden accents that continued even to his ears with the thick rings and bars that ran through every inch of both. Cullen had to admit this man was beautiful.  
  
“I am nothing if not persuasive.”  
  
“You kept tossin’ embers at me!”  
  
“My darling Amatus, don’t act like you don’t like to play with fire.” He murmured as they gazed at each other.

The stranger then lifted a highly adorned hand and held it out, its’ back to Cullen, as if he expected a kiss.  
  
“Rutherford, is it? Ser Dorian Pavus, at your service, inspector, mage and mortician extraordinaire.”  
  
Cullen took the hand by the fingers and shook it once, much to the amusement of Bull.

“Ugh” Dorian huffed giving the Qunari a shove.  
  
“Don’t worry, Kadan, I’ll always be here to kiss those pretty fingers.”  
  
“Only because you know their talents.”  
  
“Enough.” Cassandra cut in before the fluff could continue, though a slight blush coloured her cheeks. “Since we are all here early I suggest we fill in our newest addition as to why he is here.”  


~~~  
  
They were bundled then into a room a little too small for purpose; plastic chairs were oriented around a slide projector,

Cassandra began switching from slide to slide, projecting images of each victim. She explained that all the disappearances that had become so frequent lately did not have much at all to link them, frustratingly. Mages, Templars, Grey Wardens, all symbols of different kinds of strength and skill around Thedas. But then, in a confusing twist, whoever was making these disappearances happen was also targeting the more vulnerable members of society, namely sex workers, the homeless and drug addicts. The Seeker then handed over to Dorian and the photographs in the screen became warped, disfigured corpses, large, jagged red crystals jutting from their lifeless bodies.

“These are the victims that were not fortunate enough to be kidnapped. The crystalline structures you see here, I found, were growing from their very bones. This grisly fate is one that awaits anyone desperate enough to take a certain drug becoming rife around these parts, it is called-“

“Red lyrium.” Interrupted an all-too-familiar voice.

“Ah, Varric, you always get here just in time to interrupt me.” Dorian chided

Cullen’s stomach dropped at the name.

“Hey there Curly, about time you started doing something useful.”

He was exhausted already “Hello Varric” he sighed

It took a whole half an hour more for the dwarf to take Cullen through the alchemical processes undertaken to produce the ‘legal high’ that was red lyrium. Apparently, every time it was made illegal, the producers would simply re-order the chemical compound and remarket it as something slightly different: ‘Red Devil’; ‘Commander Crystal’; ‘Dragonheart’ to name only a few. Cullen certainly had his work cut out for him and if the circumstances weren’t so grisly and also so…terrifying.

Rutherford did not want to lose composure in the meeting room but when Cassandra mentioned the Templars, the…Red Templars…he couldn’t help the icy feeling that settled in the pit of his stomach. It remained there now as he thought about providence. There must be a Maker because so many times just being a Templar could have been his undoing. And yet here he was, new job, new home, new life. It seemed a million miles from the carnage of the circle tower as well as the havoc on the streets of Kirkwall.

In that moment, as he gave thanks to the powers above privately in his new office, Detective-Constable Cullen Rutherford vowed to never falter from this new path. He would continue away from the Templar order and their liquid chains, towards the valley of redemption. 

 

~~~

 

It was the most difficult week of Cullen’s life since he’d left for Templar training. Not only were the locals suspicious and unhelpful, some of them were outright _rude_.

“The fuck would I tell you if I did drugs, fucking cop.”

“You police only want to help yourselves.”

“I’m not speaking to your kind anymore, let my son be taken away, you did.”

By his fifth day on the job, Rutherford was already exhausted with this city, but refused to give up. He spent the day in his office writing reports that covered every possible interpretation of what his interviewees had said. And yet, as much paperwork as he’d done, there was no denying he’d made very little progress.

“Good work this week, Curly! Come have a drink to celebrate!” Called Iron Bull from the doorway.

“Thank you, but I don’t drink.”

“You don’t need to drink where we’re going, come for the acts?” joined Varric, crouched between the Qun’s legs

“Acts?”

“Yeah, loads! Singers, dancers, musicians and the like! Even Cassandra’s coming!”

“What do you mean, _even Cassandra_?” the Seeker’s voice hissed from behind the two men.

They both yelped in surprise, Varric jerking up and headbutting Bull’s privates in the process, who then roared, stumbling out of the office and promptly sliding down the wall, cupping himself and whispering

“My- my balls…” as if in mourning, and Cullen cracked up.  

Cassandra entered then, and to the ex-Templar’s relief she was also laughing at the scene.

“Varric may be an _idiot_ , detective, but on this occasion, he is correct.”

“So we’re going to some sort of tavern?”

“Not a tavern, a speakeasy named Red Jenny’s. Haven’s one and only, it’s very popular.”

“So we’re going because it’s…popular?” Cullen was struggling to understand.

“In a way, but not exactly. Its owners, Leliana and Sera are our inside sources for a lot of leads. You won’t believe how loose lips become when people are drunk or speaking to a flapper in a pretty dress.”  
  
And so they went.

~~~

What Cassandra failed to mention, however, was that this Friday, the third Friday of Cloudreach just _happened_ to be their busiest night of the month, due to some sort of special guest or the like. There were no free tables due to their rather late arrival, and so Cullen wedged himself in at the bar after being greeted by Leliana who seemed vastly happier than the last time he’d seen her during the third outbreak of the Blightplague. He was abandoned by all, apart from Bull. Everyone else had come here with an agenda apparently, whereas the Qunari just liked the pretty dresses and flashy suits.

An hour or two later, their party was full once again but Rutherford was flagging, he cursed internally for not bringing some sort of work to do, or a book at the very least. He could swear he’d seen every dance Thedas had to offer, almost thought he had some of the moves memorised. But then mercifully, the dwarf introducing all of the acts announced the next to be the last before the floor would be cleared for everyone to be able to have a swing. He merely announced the next performer as ‘ _The one you’ve all been waiting for_ ’ and took his leave moments before the whole room lapsed into darkness.

A few moment passed in charged darkness until a lone figure was illuminated on the stage by a single spotlight. She was dressed more-or-less as the rest of the dancers were, though with a lot less fringing.

This performer’s outfit was more muted than the rest in colour, mostly onyx with what was seemingly a rose bush growing up the hem in green and red sequins, broken up with…water spouts were they? In two different shades of blue. The garment was embroidered heavily in gold and silver around the vee of the neckline. She wore her long, brown hair tightly curled, spilling over one shoulder in a loose pony, a thin gold filigree band around her crown. The girl’s makeup had a simple glamour to it, lips red and closed eyes simply lined, fringed by long, dark lashes. She held herself delicately, frowning, shoulders drawn inward, one hand behind her back, the other held aloft, small orbs of warm, glowing light spilling out slowly to settle on the centres of each jam-packed table, a little way from the bar.

 Cullen couldn’t stop staring; the mood lights she’d cast weren’t helping either, making her glow as if she was some burning precious jewel, the sparkling light reflecting off sequins of the dress, beckoning him to come and burn in the flames.

Whoever this woman was, there was no denying she’d attracted quite the crowd. And yet she continued to stand motionless, even as the upbeat introductory riff began on the piano. Her eyes finally opened, a penetratingly pale shade of blue - or were they silver? – and they seemed to focus solely on Cullen for a moment from across the room before, in a manner that seemed more akin to a soprano than to a flapper, the lady began to sing.

 _“Weight is coming off_  
Soaring high  
Pleading you to stay  
Come alive”

She appeared to float back a little from the stage’s edge, a stiff grin now plastered on her face.

 _“Say you mean it, seal it up_  
Say you wanna try  
Say you haven't had enough  
Say you wanna”

And then, she began to dance, knees bending and feet twisting even when remaining in one place. Her weight kept shifting from one leg to the other, the free one kicking out an oblique angle. Occasionally she would shift, kicking behind or in front.

Cullen blushed at the scandalous amount of leg they must have been seeing in the front row. 

 _“Once you get the feeling it_  
Wants you back for more  
Now it gets ethereal  
Feet ain't on the floor  
One step back you're leaving it  
Jumping at the wall  
Why won't you believe in it 'Till it's gone?”

But the dancing ceased at the song’s slow bridge; the mage lapsed into her previous stationary position, eyes even falling closed again. 

 _“You gave to me_  
All I know   
I will stay here I will not go   
You gave to me   
All I know   
I will stay here I will not go”

And then the rapid, jerking dance continued, only coming to an end when the song did. The crowd erupted into applause, shouting and whistling their praise; some even threw small favours, flowers, handkerchiefs, bits of paper and the like. In return the performer merely gave a small smile and a bow before exiting the stage.

  
Cullen was enchanted, could not even check himself enough to pick his jaw up off the floor. Cassandra frowned to herself; though there was the slightest fuzziness of alcohol in her system, she could not deny that look.

“Well, I think Curly here enjoyed that performance.” Varric teased

“Yeah I fucking bet he did! I think your hard-on knocked the drink out of someone’s hand.” Bull continued

The detective huffed, pushing out of the bar stool and weaving around cramped tables towards the toilets to the left of the stage, wincing as Sera called after him.

“Oi, don’t you even think about ‘avin’ a wank in my toilets matey!”

But as he approached the bathroom doors, he noticed another marked ‘no exit’. There was an undeniable breeze Cullen could feel flowing from its’ direction,  so surely it lead outside. It would be perfectly appropriate to smoke indoors as a dozen or so patrons were already demonstrating, but in this moment the detective-sergeant could not resist the fresh pull of the outdoors. Hopefully, in the relative darkness of this side of the stage, he could get out there unnoticed. Using the noisy cover of the dancefloor being cleared of furniture, Cullen made his escape.

“Ah.” Rutherford sighed aloud, descending the small set of metal stairs and noticing the two large dumpsters at the building’s side. “This must be where Red Jenny dumps her rubbish, no wonder they don’t want anyone stumbling out here.”

On the one side, the alley lead into darkness, on the other, back to the street. His chosen portion was thankfully illuminated by a large floodlight on an adjacent wall.

The cigarette in his mouth was only just lit before the exit-door was creeping open again. His stomach clenched slightly in case it was security and then it started doing flips as his eyes settled on the figure slowly climbing down the steps. It was the girl. It was the very girl he’d watched moments before leaving, the first stranger to ever render him speechless. At least this time she was covered with an off-white fur coat.

A smoky inhale left Cullen’s lungs and that finally prompted the woman to see him. Her eyes went wide for a moment, before she blinked and looked coyly to the ground, folding her arms.

“Oh. Hello.” She said, her speaking voice every bit as dulcet as when she sang, and for the second time that night, she stole his voice. He could only find it again when she shifted on her feet, refusing to meet his gaze still.

“Maker’s breath, forgive me ma’am, I’m a little star-struck. Your performance earlier was really very good.” The detective internally congratulated himself for not stuttering and his statement seemed to rouse some energy in the stranger.

“Do you think so, sir? It’s mightily kind of you to say so without throwing it at me on a piece of paper.”

“No, I would never!” Rutherford blurted before sighing when she giggled behind a hand and he began willing with all his might not to blush at the sound. This was ridiculous, he was being ridiculous. Figuring it was better late than never to be polite, he extended a hand towards his company. “Cullen Rutherford. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Mariella Trevelyan, the same to you.” She shook his hand loosely.

“Can I offer you a smoke, Mariella?”

“No thanks, Cullen, I’m a big gal who buys her own cigarettes.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to suggest-“

“I saw you with the Seeker Constable. Do you mind?” she gestured with a gloved hand to the cigarette between her lips and when Cullen stepped to light it she continued “Are you two involved romantically?”

He fumbled then, lighter falling to the wet ground.

“No! No we are not! Why would you..? Why does everybody keep assuming that?” The detective bent to retrieve his possession, adding the second question quietly.

“So you work together?”

“Yes. She offered me a transfer here, said there was a lot of trouble in this tiny city.”

There was a pause in the conversation as the both smoked.

“That makes you a policeman, then?” Mariella asked finally

“Sort of, I’m a detective. Detective Constable”

The singer’s gaze shot up from where it was focusing intently on her shoe. She approached him suddenly, fingers curling around the cuffs of his shirt, eyes moving to meet his, expression dark.

When she spoke her tone was incredibly serious.

“Please listen to me carefully, I won’t say this again. This time next week, on the twenty-second of Cloudreach” she stopped, glanced quickly from side to side “ _do not_ , go to the carpark of the Singing Maiden freehouse.” She stared intently as if this was meant to make any sense to him and he didn’t quite know how to respond before something occurred to him.

“The car park? Why’s there a car park? I thought no one here drove?”

Mariella continued to stare searchingly into his eyes, speaking again slowly in a low murmur.

“Exactly, and that is _precisely why_ at that date and time you should _definitely not_ go there.”

She held his sleeves for a fraction longer, trembling slightly, eyes boring into his own and shimmering with something akin to desperation. And then she let go, turning away to pat her hair down and take a deep breath before coming to face him again. When she did, the stage-smile was back in place. It made Cullen frown.

“Bye-bye now, detective. I get the feeling I’ll be seein’ ya around.” She took one more puff on the cigarette before flicking it deeper into the alley. Rutherford was briefly distracted by the ember spiralling into the dark but turned back just to see the mage disappearing into the fuming night of the streets.

He couldn’t help but stare after her, inhaling deeply on the last of his cigarette.

“I get that feelin’ too, you strange broad…Mariella.”

**Author's Note:**

> Phew! So this is my first actual ~story~ with chapters and everything, I am so excited to have finally got it started! I hope at least one person enjoys this, any constructive feedback is welcome, always.
> 
> The song Mariella sings is called Shuffle by Bombay Bicycle Club. Not sure why I chose it, just thought it kind of had a Charleston-esque tempo I guess? (And it's a favourite of mine c:) 
> 
> Sorry about the long-ass description of the dress also, I just found one I fell in love with and couldn't help myself  
> You can see it here: https://41.media.tumblr.com/5f89231d9aa3fe01f4f5bc39503c7700/tumblr_mmtb28IBK31s7d8n2o1_500.jpg


End file.
